


Tales of Christmas

by defenestrator



Category: Free!
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, Holiday Fic Exchange, I don't really know how to categorize this, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defenestrator/pseuds/defenestrator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a chance meeting in the midst of a snowy holiday, and a campfire a very long time ago. Neither of these are significant on their own, but they both have their own stories to tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tales of Christmas Present

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aestivates](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aestivates/gifts).



> UM. So this is my first real fic in a... really, _really_ long time, for the Iwatobi Christmas Fic Exchange -- it came out kind of wonky, and much longer than I was expecting, but I'm not unhappy with it. I hope you enjoy!

Travel is an exacting science.

The calculation of distances and expenses, the search for lodgings and transportation, and most of all the suitable crafting of a flawless piece of luggage to meet your every need; it's only in that last instance that Rei would deign to accept Nagisa's insistence on labeling travel itself an art form. Nagisa also likes to call it a whole host of other things -- treasure hunts and grand adventures and hero's journeys notwithstanding, at the end of the day Nagisa manages to be better at it than Rei is, in that mysterious way that Nagisa has.

Let it never be said that Rei cannot gracefully admit his own failings. Of course, if admitting one's failings with such aplomb weren't the prelude to a grand reversal of fortunes, it would hardly be worth doing.

The endgame, then, is this: Rei will make this trip a success even if it kills him. Or lands him back in California for Nagisa to laugh at, but that would be the worst-case scenario.

He still has a few cards up his sleeve, of course. He's nowhere near as terrible at English as Makoto, he's much better at common sense and day-to-day social survival than Haruka, and he still has twenty dollars left in the pocket of his track pants.

That twenty dollars may also be a problem it must be said. Who knew there were disadvantages to calculating the exact amount you would need to get from Point A to Point B? Who knew the bus to L.A. and the bus to NYC would look so similar? (True, they were operated by the same tour bus company, but they could have spared some expense to theme their buses to major cities, couldn't they?) Who knew the scenery that had led Rei to take the tour bus rather than a plane in the first place would have been so mesmerizing he was halfway across the continent before bothersome eyesores like road signs reasserted themselves?

Life is full of questions, certainly. Life also sometimes seems much more like a lengthy comedy of errors, which has been Rei's lot much too often, he sometimes feels, since high school. But at some point between the cloying flavor of strawberry milk and the blinding clarity of willingly pretending to be a marine mammal he realized that sometimes the funniest things can be fate. At some point on the road he also realized he didn't have enough for a return ticket. If there's one thing Rei's learned since high school, it is how to pick his battles.

Science, like design, like swimming, is also a world of judicious revisions. And maybe he had wanted to see the Big Apple just a little, too.

The city is as splendid as endless movies and brochures and postcards have promised, all of its wrinkles and ragged edges not so much softened as erased under the play of a hundred thousand bulbs across a hundred thousand fresh snowflakes. When Rei stepped off the bus, in fact, he stayed transfixed on the sidewalk for what must have been a good ten minutes, each fiber of his excellent aesthetic sense screaming: _yes, yes, you chose well, now sit down and start making it useful._

The problem with being in the middle of snowfall in a strange city past general closing time, though, is that there aren't many places comfortable to sit in track pants. The other problem with this scenario is that, although he can probably wrangle a new flight and some additional currency, Christmas Eve in America isn't the most accommodating time to be traveling.

Despite all that, the fact that the crunch of his sneakers echoes like a whipcrack all the way down to the next block is almost enough to distract Rei from the cold. He should call his parents, let them know he won't be home for Christmas. He should call Makoto, let him know his and Nagisa's presents for their annual gift exchange will be late. He should--

"Rei?"

\--not be admiring the timbre of that voice in the hush instead of recognizing it, because the streets should be utterly deserted, vexingly so; should not be showing him sudden apparitions of Matsuoka Rin of all people, head tilted and brow cocked in a way that would have given him away if his hair and teeth hadn't.

"... Hey, are you actually frozen there or what? I'm not really into being responsible for a corpse Christmas Eve." There's wryness layered over the concern in Rin's voice, both echoing with perfect faithfulness across the snow as he takes a few steps closer, presumably to have a better look at the mute currently passing for Ryuugazaki Rei, possibly just to make sure there really is an idiot traipsing around the snowbound lanes of New York City in late December in track pants and a light turtleneck.

The bite of wind and damp at his collar is what snaps Rei out of his dumbfounded surprise. "N-no, it's me, it's-- Rin-san, what are you doing here?"

It's a ridiculous question, of course, even if it is a sincere reflection of his thoughts, and Rin shoots him a speaking look for it. He doesn't take it back -- the coincidence is too much, and either too beautiful or too funny or too fateful to ignore -- but Rei does hasten to add, "I just came from California," as though it explains everything.

Judging by the way Rin's face suddenly makes a dive for his scarf, it really kind of does. Of course, there's no way Rin could be in America without entering what is commonly referred to as Nagisa's spy network, which he insists on calling colleagues. The media and entertainment industry is, as ever and in every country, a monolith of inscrutable power.

Feeling obscurely irritated (they've been at this for five minutes after what must be five years and he can already tell Rin's shoulders are not shaking from coughing or cold), Rei lifts his chin and tugs meaningfully at his suitcase, which is well on its way to becoming a snow ornament and helps his case not at all.

"My bus was delayed." And headed in the wrong direction entirely, but a man must have some secrets. "I was looking for somewhere to stay until I could book my flight. You wouldn't happen to--"

"You're looking for lodgings," Rin interrupts him flatly, never charitable enough to let others rally themselves if he can help it, "in this weather. At this time of year."

The irritation prickles a little harder, but Ryuugazaki Rei hasn't spent the past decade or so divorced from his self-awareness -- he can recognize when he's angry with others even before he loses his patience, but he will always know exactly when and why he's angry with himself. There is no calculation without objectivity.

"I'm looking for help with lodgings." There is also no business without acumen, and he's learned a little more about talking his way around people since he opened his own design firm. Judging by the sudden quirk to Rin's expression, he knows exactly what the game is.

He holds out a hand anyway, rolling his eyes through the half-smile slipping out of his scarf. "I said I didn't want to be responsible for a corpse Christmas Eve, didn't I? Even an idiot's corpse. Give me that, I'll walk faster with it."

Rei realizes belatedly, mouth open, that there's no use protesting the gesture when he can't feel his fingers. He shuts it and unearths a foot to give his luggage a feeble kick forward.

This time Rin outright laughs at him.

\--

"I like the hat."

"What?"

They've been walking in a long, snow-weighted corridor of silence, softer than the lights left scattered as the hour advances. Once he's moving, and consequently a little warmer, though, Rei can't help following his eyes with his mouth.

It's a habit that still gets him in trouble sometimes, and the narrowed side glance Rin throws him should be warning enough, but he can't quite help himself. He's seen Rin a decent handful of times since life scattered them all to the four winds, his shoulders broader and eyes and teeth more dangerous each time, somehow -- a complete contrast to the changes Rei sees in the mirror, the softening jawline and floppier hair. But the hat is new.

It's carefully perched, warm and soft, and magnificently ruins the elegant lines of Rin's dark overcoat with the blue and pink shark logo grinning cheekily from one side. The moment he spots it, Rei is fascinated by the sheer fashion disaster.

"Shut up already," Rin is grumbling, muffled and staring straight ahead. He's stomping a little, but hasn't raised his voice or adjusted his scarf. Diagnosis: long-suffering. "Gou got it for me for Christmas."

"Ah." Rei relents a little, dignity slightly recovered through sheer schadenfreude. "Is Gou-san doing well?"

"Too well. You've got no idea how hard it was to get this bit of downtime out of her, she had five competitions lined up last time she called."

That, at least, explains why Rin's professional shadow is conspicuously absent along with his ever-present sports bag. Seeing him empty-handed was almost as surreal as seeing him on the streets in a foreign country to begin with.

"Downtime, Rin-san? It doesn't sound like you."

"New York City doesn't sound like you, either." Rei nearly stops walking at the snap that suddenly slides into the conversation, wholly unanticipated -- his mouth is still half-open, words like 'You've earned it' and 'The Olympics must have been hard' and 'Gou-san is a harsh taskmaster' dying on the tip of his tongue. Rin's pace doesn't falter -- they're practically half-jogging down the street, though Rei hasn't complained, and won't. "Did Nagisa finally get you to stop being afraid of foreign clients?"

"No." He keeps his voice even, more curious than offended. There's something warming in the unlooked-for abrasiveness. He hasn't talked to Rin one-on-one in years, he realizes suddenly. It was never the defining element in their relationship, and yet... "I'm not afraid of foreign clients, but I think I still have much more that I could do in Japan first."

"Bullshit." Silence slices into the dialogue and settles, glaring, as they stop at a red light. Rei still hasn't asked where they're going. He's about to, but Rin cuts him off with an explosive sigh. "No, sorry, that came out wrong. You're not Haru, though."

Against all odds, there's a small smile on his face when he looks back at Rei. "You can do more than one thing at a time."

Rei shakes his head, but he's no longer sure who or what he's doing it at. Conversations with Rin tend to take a lot of screeching left turns, but it isn't a bad thing. It takes his mind off the cold.

"Thank you." He surprises himself, then, by laughing. "But interior design is a little different from swimming."

It's not quite an excuse, and Rin seems to pick up on it, because all he does is roll his eyes. "Haru can't multitask at art, either."

\--

"... Rin-san."

"Now what."

"Where are we?" It's a night, Rei thinks, for sounding ridiculous, and Rin doesn't spare him the looks he deserves, but-- "You know what I mean. Lodgings, I said. Not tourism."

Though he wouldn't be opposed to stopping inside the well-lit, well-warmed lobby facing them for a breather and the chance to feel his extremities again. There's something ironic about the fact that, to him, that is really all five-star hotels are good for. The bellhop is definitely eyeing them suspiciously through his equally well-pressed curls.

"Don't be stupid." Rin looks a little exasperated, but also about five seconds from laughing at him again. "Unless you're calling me a tourist, and want me to leave you in the snow and steal your bag. Now hurry up, I hate giving Nagisa obituaries."

Before Rei can even begin to parse that statement, Rin's already inside, leaving him mouthing indignantly at the revolving glass doors and the vaguely menacing bellhop.

Pick your battles, he recites to himself, twice, and capitulates to his baser instincts.

\--

They take him all the way across the lobby, down the hall and into a darkened room -- they arrest him squarely in front of the massive stone and brick fireplace wreathed in insultingly false snow and slightly gaudy holiday cheer, and the largest non-wildfire Rei's ever seen in his life.

"All this fake gold plating and brass and red velvet," comes Rin's voice in the darkness by his shoulder, low and laughing, "and you go for the rock and soot. What kind of designer are you, again?"

"Shut up a moment, Rin-san," Rei tells him good-naturedly enough -- after appreciating the snow and ice very thoroughly, he is, he thinks, allowed to have a moment with the fireplace. The mantel is outlined in age-softened obsidian and brass, just visible in the minimal lighting that glows in the depths of the room. The furniture and walls are warm, and lush, and Rei never wants to step out of this room again as long as he lives.

Fantasies aside, he comes back to himself to realize that he's in what is most likely a lounge, part bar and part dining room, and Rin has seated himself in front of the fire, abandoning Rei's worldly possessions next to the couch. There's a gentle _thunk_ and the clinking of cups.

"Whenever you two are done over there." Rin has an arm thrown over the back of the couch, bare in the firelight. Rei realizes suddenly that the room is, in fact, very warm in the way that luxury establishments that like to waste electricity are warm. His beloved fire is mood lighting at best, wasteful at worst.

He slinks to the couch feeling out of sorts, until Rin hands him a steaming mug and the rich aroma of chocolate hits his nose at the same time that plush cushioning hits his aching back. He nearly falls into the couch under the double assault; even the furniture's stuffing is excessive.

"I can't stay here," is the second thing out of his mouth, after the fervent sigh once his body realizes it won't, in fact, become the next casualty on this ill-advised road trip. "I have twenty dollars."

"I have an extra bed," Rin shoots back as though they're reciting lines at each other; he doesn't even dignify the exchange with a look, sunk as bonelessly into the couch as Rei feels. His absurd hat is completely lopsided, covering his eye but not his teeth as he bares them. It's not quite a grin. "I can pay the bellhop to hide your luggage."

"Rin-san!" Normally, Rei would be scrambling for his belongings by now -- no threat, life has taught him, should be taken as idle when it involves his person. His spare glasses are in there. He moves more slowly, though, drunk on chocolate and mellow companionship.

"Relax, Rei." Rin is looking at him now, head tilted just enough to see, teeth put away in an expression just short of sheepish. "It's Christmas Eve and I have room. You won't find anything else for miles around here."

"And besides," he continues, and a frisson of either foreboding or excessive sugar consumption shimmies its way down Rei's spine, "I'm not letting you off with a freebie, you know. You'll owe me something."

"How much?" Rei's already making quick estimates in his head -- his earnings are comfortable, if nowhere near Rin's, and Rin knows that. "Rin-san--"

"I can hear you thinking in the wrong direction." Rin's voice is snappish, but his hat has slid down again, faithfully ruining the impression. "Use that oversized brain of yours with some common sense for a change, would you? What goes with holidays and a fire?"

Rei manages to stop himself from answering "charcoal", but it's a very near thing. He definitely needs to take a hard look at the influences in his life.

Common sense, though, he can at least gather for the moment where the heat and comfort have melted it out his ears. It still takes a rather long moment, though, in which he watches Rin watch the fire, his profile strange and nostalgic at once.

That's when it hits him, warm and incredulous and wrapped in the years winding to a close.

"You want a story," he hears himself answer as though from a long ways away, "and not a ghost story."

There's a rustle of movement beside him -- out of the corner of his eye, Rei watches Rin try to disappear into the couch and he feels like laughing for once. He only smiles to himself, into his mug, and pulls his feet onto the seat and his glasses from his face. He places them down carefully, waiting.

"You don't have one?" Rin's scorn is as funny as it is half-hearted. "I thought you were the bookworm, Ryuugazaki."

"Do we want to have the argument about oral versus textual storytelling again, Rin-san?" Rei says in lieu of answering the question. Irresponsibility has gotten him this far, after all.

Rin only huffs at him this time, before sinking into a slightly sullen silence. Rei takes pity on him after only a minute or so -- he's much too used to spoiled brats by now, after all. "You know I'm not a good storyteller. But I pay my debts."

"Sure," Rin is talking into one of possibly a thousand pillows surrounding them. "So put your money where your mouth is."

"Once upon a time," Rei replies, without ceremony, and Rin's scoff is more startled than derisive; for all his claims to moodiness, he's a good listener, and rarely interrupts, "there was a sculptor."

"He was very young, and very good, and there was more than one rumor circulating that he worked magic in secret. That was how good he was. He would sculpt anything for a price, or some other kind of reward, but he never sculpted for nothing."

"He worked by one principle and one only: every single piece of material given to him, wood or clay or marble or stone, already contained a masterpiece. There was nothing in the world he couldn't find a shape in."

"He sculpted for generals and kings and farmers and soldiers. He sculpted for secret societies and town halls. He sculpted for newlyweds and tombstones, everything. Everyone knew his name, and it wasn't enough."

"No matter what he sculpted, he knew that it would one day fade and crumble -- no matter how many plaques he put his name on, he knew there were many more pieces out there without known artists. The sculptor wanted to live forever -- or he wanted his art to live forever? He started looking for stronger materials -- but metal statues rusted. He made even larger and more complex statues -- but they were easier to topple and took longer to make. He tried everything he could think of, and finally gave in to despair and stopped sculpting completely. Because what is the purpose of beauty if it cannot be transmitted forever?"

"Finally, he decided to leave his workshop -- it was useless to him now. He traveled without knowing where he was going, searching for a purpose, but ironically he couldn't escape his own art. It followed him like a shadow no matter how far he went."

"It was bound to happen: one day, he found a sculpture of his that someone had changed. Apparently, they weren't satisfied with his masterpiece of a pegasus, because they gave it more wings instead, before tethering it to a fountain."

"He was furious, of course -- his masterpieces had existed since before they were sculpted, and he was the one who had discovered them. No one else had any right to change them. This wasn't the worst offense. As time went on, he discovered places where his sculptures had been melted down completely, to make things as ridiculous as tools and tableware."

"His despair was even worse, and maybe he went a little crazy -- now, instead of just wandering he began to destroy his own sculptures."

Rei pauses, realizing that his hot chocolate is going cold, and Rin bursts out with, "That's ridiculous." They both freeze for a moment -- it was so loud the room echoed, and Rin sits back from where he'd pulled himself free of the pillows. "I mean, just -- sure, things are bad, but he's no artist if that's all he thought of doing."

"I didn't know you were an artist, Rin-san." Rei gets a glare for his cheek, and only smiles mysteriously. "Don't worry. There's more to the story."

Whether it's logic or embarrassment that shuts Rin up, he doesn't utter a sound again until Rei's speaking once more. "Things are bad, of course, but that is a lot of sculptures for one man to destroy. Eventually, he found a sculpture he'd broken, but it hadn't been discarded."

"Because instead, another sculptor had 'fixed' it -- they added their own version of the head he destroyed, which I suppose made it a chimera, but the sculpture was still up there, in town, under his name."

"You'd better not be making up some dumb happy ending just because," Rin mutters, but it's quiet enough to ignore, so Rei does.

"Shocked, he revisited other broken sculptures -- some had been taken down, but many more had been edited, added to, continued. Inspired, he returned to his workshop, and began making incomplete sculptures -- unfinished pieces that made your imagination run wild and your fingers itch. He'd discovered a new kind of masterpiece."

Rei can't resist adding, "And then they lived happily ever after," and when there's no response, he's forced to look, a little nervously. He's not a good storyteller, certainly, and he's never been sure if Rin liked his stories or the things they sometimes found themselves debating, as spiritedly as those discussions usually went.

Rin is asleep. There's a part of Rei that's a little indignant, but Rin's hand is curled against his arm and the lounge is dark and empty, and they are the last two people on Earth huddled around a fire under the snow, sharing stories of a bygone race -- for a moment that's all he can feel.

Rei puts his head back against the cushions. He's warm all the way down to his toes despite the moment of possibly existential terror.

In a moment, he'll wake Rin and they'll go upstairs together, or stay around their fire, curled in a parenthesis against the cold until morning. In a moment, after he moves away.

Perhaps it's already Christmas morning by now.


	2. Tales of (Christmas) Past

_It was the biggest pillow Rei had ever seen in his admittedly short life._

_And there had to be few things funnier than watching Rin try to curl all his lanky limbs around it, looking a little like a disgruntled, stop-motion octopus across the flickering illumination of the campfire._

_Had it been a regular training camp, it would have been much more difficult for Rin to join them; but Gou had become much more aggressive about scheduling joint practices with Samezuka since that fateful relay two years ago._

_And so, here they were -- sitting in a surreal sort of companionship as the campfire died a slow death and the stars surfaced from the ocean beside them as though tossed by the waves._

_"Are you cold, Rin-san?" Rei finally had to ask; Rin had miraculously shrunk his swimmer's bulk by at least a third under his fascinated gaze._

_The look he was rewarded with was drier than the sand they were camped on. Rin dropped his eyes back to the fire without comment, Rei kept looking._

_It was becoming a vice of his._

_They didn't do a great deal of extra training outside the official joint times, but there was no one else more qualified, Rei knew, to give his butterfly the sort of tongue lashing it desperately needed. Rin was a merciless instructor, but it was hard to resent it when he pushed himself just as much or more. It had taken a while for Rei to realize he was watching him swim just as much, or perhaps more than, he watched Haruka -- which was a feat, all things considered._

_Rin was a beautiful swimmer._

_The greater shock was that it was a beauty, Rei realized one day very suddenly, that he **understood.** The beauty of minute recalculations in his dive, deliberate, decisive adjustments of speed and stroke and a terrible, wonderful attention paid to every second spent in the water._

_At some point, he began to see a little more._

_The flash of his eyes when he had a new idea, only slightly less harebrained sometimes than Nagisa's. The set of his jaw when he was trying not to smile. The slope of his shoulders when he was disappointed, and the narrowing of his eyes when he had more to say but was holding himself back for some reason. Rei had quickly realized -- had probably realized years ago -- that as noisy as Rin could be, there was still plenty lost in translation. Sometimes he cursed in English. Sometimes he bared his teeth instead of smiling._

_Sometimes he peeked up through his lashes instead of asking a question. It was terribly lazy of him: Rei's vision wasn't great in the dark in the first place, never mind the campfire and the smoke. Rin was lucky he was a diligent student, even if Rei fell far short of being a mind reader when there was a living, breathing one in their midst._

_Questions, though, he could do. There was a particular one Rei hadn't had the chance to pose yet -- one he'd been saving._

_"What are you doing after graduation?"_

_Rin barked a laugh, slightly startled out of his careful nest of limbs. "Is that a real question?"_

_"Humor me."_

_There was quiet for a moment, as Rin rolled his eyes at him and Rei continued to meet his gaze squarely. He'd made good use of the waiting time on this question._

_"If you say so. It's the Olympics for me." Rin sobered, as he always did on this topic without fail. It made Rei bite back a smile. "And before you ask for details -- because you will, and it's annoying -- the plan is in writing, of course. No, you can't see it yet."_

_"It's not a birthday wish, Rin-san," Rei said, and smiled his most disarming smile in face of the ensuing glare. He was getting better at it with practice. "And afterwards?"_

_He kept his smile at the immediate slide into quizzical that earned him. "After?"_

_"The Olympics, Rin-san. What comes after? I'm asking," he added, wholly on a whim, "as your kouhai in swimming."_

_"The hell-- the hell you are," was all Rin had to say for a few beats, looking wholly taken aback. Rei felt briefly triumphant, as he always did when he threw Rin off his stride. There was the brief moment of mutinous recovery, the eventual sinking into thought -- the way he turned his pillow over a few times was new._

_"You completely suck as somebody to sit around the campfire with, I hope you know," was what Rin decided finally, leveling him with a half-hearted glower. "'Course I'm going to university, too."_

_The way he was gripping his pillow, he was probably imagining Rei's neck between his fingers. At least a little. Rei took pity on the both of them -- he shouldn't feel kinship to a pillow, but it was a very nice one, at least, the cross-stitching exquisitely rendered._

_"What would I need to do to become a better campfire companion, I wonder?"_

_Rin shot him a suspicious look for his tone alone, but spending years in close proximity to Nanase Haruka was not conducive to being easily stared down, and Rin looked away first._

_The fire was on its last legs, throwing deep shadows across the sand and their faces._

_It was still quite simple to imagine the look on Rin's face when he spoke. "A story."_

_"A campfire story?"_

_"No, a news story." He might have deserved the teeth in that comment._

_"I don't know any ghost stories, Rin-san."_

_"Not a ghost story," came the decisive statement almost immediately._

_"Are you afraid?"_

_"No," Rin spoke slowly now, the fire luminous in his expressionless stare, "I'm just pretty sure you'd suck at ghost stories."_

_"You have a terrible way of asking for a story, Rin-san." Rei adjusted his glasses imperiously, and used the reflection of firelight to drink in Rin's affronted flush. "I doubt you could do better."_

_"Don't be ridiculous, it's not even a night for ghost stories!" Rei stared him down with great patience. He should include the skill in his thank-you card to Haruka-senpai for graduation. "... You're just as bad at asking!"_

_"I only have a few role models, after all."_

_"We need to get you away from Nagisa." Rin was definitely strangling his pillow a little, clutching and smoothing at it by turns as though only half-aware of his hands. He gave a huge sigh, literally sinking down where he sat. "If you don't have one, just **say so.** "_

_"Age before beauty, I think." Rei recognized the softness in the corners of his eyes, and dared to push a little more. It paid off handsomely when Rin flopped back on his hands with a groan._

_"Fine. Fine. But you'll owe me one."_

_"Yes, Rin-senpai."_

_"Don't even **start.** " Rei did his best to look contrite under the umpteenth glare he was collecting tonight. It was difficult when Rin had all but given up pretenses at true grumpiness. "And don't interrupt."_

_Rei had his mouth open to reply, shut it again. A moment later, Rin sat up again, his gaze slanted towards the ocean. The silence stretched so long and dark that Rei very nearly broke it again before Rin spoke._

_"So, once. There was this space ship. Space probe -- they named it and everything, but the name isn't as important. It was supposed to go out there and have a look at the outer reaches of the solar system, you know, all that." There was a stiffness in his words that mellowed out little by little as he got going. Rei lowered his chin to his knees and watched Rin watch the sky over the water._

_"This was a while back, when all this stuff was new. Nobody **really** had much idea what was out there, they were just excited to be heading out. The space probe -- maybe it was looking forward to it, too. There were so many stars out there, there had to be something to find, right? It was built in one Earth city and only ever saw that much of Earth, but it didn't matter."_

_The cadence of Rin's voice in storytelling was low and steady, and a tension Rei hadn't even realized remained in his spine loosened as he listened and was lulled._

_"There was way more out there than back here. So there it went, right out to orbit and forward without looking back. It passed almost every planet, which was pretty crazy -- right through the asteroid belt, like one of those arcade games -- and just kept on going. The funny thing was, though... It was harder to tell when it got out of the solar system. Things just got farther and farther apart. Darker and darker."_

_"I don't know what the hell they expected out there in space, but it didn't get brighter. Eventually, it was about like this." The muted gesture Rin made encompassed the swallowing darkness around them, burned through by the stars like needle's eyes. "It was lucky to pass anything planet-like once in a blue moon. Eventually, it didn't pass anything. And it's hard to tell where you're going when you don't have anything to pass -- or even if you're going anywhere at all. Relativity, I guess."_

_"It had lost contact with Earth a long, long time ago, because our communications suck, but for some reason it started thinking about the place again. There wasn't much, of course, just that one city. But it was better than just staring into the dark."_

_"It started wondering when it would go home. It's not like they programmed the concept of one-way trip into it."_

_Rei felt, obscurely, like he should be saying something -- but nothing was coming to mind. Rin's voice sounded like it was coming from about a million miles away; maybe from another planet. It was a strange feeling._

_It went on, like a wave surging back to the shore: describing the second space program, the second space probe, man stepping forward and a reunion somewhere in the darkness between stars. A brilliant flash like a supernova in the sky. He was lying on the sand, velvet coolness in the small of his back; or perhaps he was face-down in the large puddle at the lighthouse, his nose in the stars at his feet. The darkness behind them was endless and colder than the ocean; it was close enough to touch, cradled in light like Rin's eyes across the fire._


End file.
